


How Sweet and Dear the Night Can Be

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When you’ve been alive for a couple of centuries, you kind of have to develop a different attitude towards life.”<br/>“Oh, you’re practically a baby vampire then.”<br/>Enjolras pouted, and it was far too cute for a deathless being. “I didn’t think you’d get it so easily.”</p>
<p>Or, the one in which Enjolras is a vampire and Grantaire discovers him after noticing paintings of him cropping up a few too many times over the decades without changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based off a quote from 'Dracula' - "No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be." - except in this night is not suffered since they're not terrifying creatures, hence the change to the night being sweet and dear.  
> I'm on holidays at the moment, so updates should be fairly often - I've got a decent bit of the fic written out already.

“Is there something I should know?”

Grantaire jumped, pulling out his headphones and turning to face the person behind him. “You didn’t need to scare the shit out of me.”

“Well, at least we both feel vaguely threatened.” The man said dryly, examining the painting in his likeness. “This is very good, you know, especially considering you’ve never seen me before.”

Grantaire bit his lip. “I actually have seen you before. I was at a protest a while back, the Ferguson solidarity vigil thing? I mean, it was kind of a weird protest, considering we’ve got our own glaringly shitty justice system that needs reforming. But, you know. Go ahead and protest already politically popular and contentious issues.”

The man nodded, considering. “All valid points, but nothing will change unless we make it clear we want change. Supporting one cause doesn’t detract from another.”

“And I’m sure that’s always gone wonderfully for you.” Grantaire turned back to the canvas. “If you’re going to stay here and chat, you might as well sit for me so I don’t have to do this all by memory.”

The man rolled his eyes, but moved to the other side of the room almost frighteningly quietly, extending a hand. “Enjolras.”

“I know.” Grantaire said, taking the hand. “I’m Grantaire.”

“I know.” Enjolras parroted, smiling at the paint that stained his hand as he pulled back, waving away Grantaire’s apology.

Grantaire moved his focus back to painting. “So, are you going to kill me?” He asked, glancing up from the canvas.

Enjolras laughed. “If I had planned to kill everyone who figured out what I am then I would have killed… Well, not that many people, surprisingly. But more than I would have liked to. If I needed to kill people to stay in obscurity, I either wouldn’t have put myself in the spotlight so often over the centuries, or I would have liked killing, which. No.”

“I still haven’t actually figured out what you are, just that you have featured prominently in a bunch of revolutions and rebellions over the ages. Art history is the downfall for your secret identity, dude. So is using the same name more than once, you silly noodle. If you’re going to change your name, at least be consistent by _always_ changing your name.”

Enjolras snorted. It was far more attractive than it should have been. “I have been called many things over the years, but I had not been called a silly noodle until now.”

Grantaire shrugged. “So why have you sought me out, if not to kill me?”

“Being immortal gets terribly boring. When Combeferre noticed out you were borrowing a bunch of books that I happened to feature in, he notified me, and I found you. Courfeyrac let me in.”

“Ah, man.” Grantaire said, rubbing his cheek and covering it in red paint. “Both of them knew about you before me.”

“Much, much before you.”

“Well that makes sense.” Grantaire said easily. “Seriously, Combeferre knows more than any actual twenty-whatever year old would. Courfeyrac, well. He’s a whole other kettle of fish.”

“I must say, you’re taking this very well.”

“I’ve had the time to adjust. Also, my friend Jehan is very interested in the occult. They’ve kind of desensitised me to supernatural stuff. I had a poltergeist haunting my bathroom for a while. Let me tell you, having to clean up vomit when you’re hungover because a ghost backed up your toilet is really no fun at all.”

“Despite my age, I have not had the pleasure of that experience.”

“I wouldn’t call it a pleasure.”

Enjolras laughed, and it was so pretty that Grantaire wanted to immediately paint over his picture, even though it was the best thing he’d done in months, because that was such a beautiful sight, and it had to be documented.

“Anyway,” Grantaire said, resisting the urge to paint a sarcastic halo around Enjolras’ head. “How did you happen to come by your immortality?”

“You have to guess.” Enjolras, tossing back his golden locks. In the dim artificial light of Grantaire’s flat, it still managed to look breathtaking. Grantaire wanted to paint this man forever. In the movement, Enjolras threw his head back, and Grantaire caught sight of the small puncture marks on his neck.

“The glorious Apollo has deigned to grace us mere mortals with his presence!” Grantaire gasped dramatically.

Enjolras looked put out. “Apollo was a bit of a dick? Like, reject him in the slightest and you’re in deep shit. No, thanks. Consent is essential, especially if you’re a god. That’s probably the biggest power imbalance you can get.”

Grantaire snorted. “ _God.”_

“No, I’m not. That’s kind of the point.” Enjolras said, flashing a wicked smile at Grantaire, who couldn’t rein in his laughter.

“I was human once, if it helps you think of it. Life was kind of shit. Everything was organic and there were no vaccines, but _wow_ , people actually died of diseases that we have the potential to eradicate now. What a surprise! I want to slap someone whenever they say shit like that is essential to a healthy life. And I’m generally a non-violent person.”

Grantaire found himself laughing again. “You seriously bring a new meaning to dark humour.”

“When you’ve been alive for a couple of centuries, you kind of have to develop a different attitude towards life.”

“Oh, you’re practically a baby vampire then.”

Enjolras pouted, and it was far too cute for a deathless being. “I didn’t think you’d get it so easily.”

“Your bite mark is showing.” Grantaire tried not to let his gaze linger on Enjolras’ neck.

Enjolras immediately clapped a hand to the scar. “I need to get better at remembering to cover it up. I was fine while high collars were in fashion, but over the past century they kind of fell off the face of the planet.”

“I don’t mind, if you’re wondering.” Grantaire said, dropping his eyes back to his canvas.

“Really? But I’m a bloodthirsty monster, and all that shit.” 

“I assumed that you don’t kill when you feed, since you talked of killing with distaste before.”

This time, Enjolras looked hesitant. “You’re right. Some choose to, but they usually get killed pretty quickly themselves. Drinking blood from humans at all is looked on distastefully, though, in some circles. Feeding is an inherently pleasurable act for both involved, and as such has developed sexual connotations. I’ve lived off donor blood for a long time. It’s hard, forging any kind of emotional bond with someone still human, and that’s the only way I experience sexual attraction. Also, being gay was kind of illegal for a long time.”

“I can’t sympathise with the whole needing blood thing, but the demisexual thing? Same, dude. And with the gay thing, a bit, too. I mean, I’m bi, but still definitely into guys. I can’t imagine what it’s like, having to hide who you are for fear of death. Or even, like, imprisonment.”

“This is a very personal conversation, considering we only just met.” Enjolras frowned slightly. “But I’m glad to have met you, even if you were painting me from memory. Which, a little weird, but still.”

Grantaire blushed. “It’s nothing creepy, I swear. You’re just, like, really pretty. It’s kind of unfair. It was from a purely aesthetic objective that I painted you. And you’ve sat for people in the past.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and was about to respond when he looked up and noticed the light filtering through the uncovered window. “Shit, the sun is rising. I can’t-“

“It’s cool, I have blackout curtains in my room. I’m fairly nocturnal, since for some reason I seem to be most artistically motivated at 4am. Also I work at a bar, so I have night shifts usually.” Grantaire said, standing and ushering Enjolras toward the bedroom. “You can stay here as long as you need to, I really don’t mind, since we’ve established neither of us have any murder plans. And if Courfeyrac let you in, I trust you.”

Enjolras smiled at him warmly, before yawning. “Sorry, I’m not usually up this late. Early? I never figured out that one. Anyway, are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s cool.” Grantaire said.

Enjolras, typing out a message on his phone, looked up. “You have bare floorboards. I don’t mind sharing, if you don’t. Your bed is huge.”

Grantaire pretended to grimace. “Sharing my bed with a beautiful, intelligent man. What a hardship.”

Spots of pink appeared on Enjolras’ pale cheeks. “Well, I think the same thing about you, so it would seem that we’re both fine. Do you have pyjama pants or something like that I could borrow? There is no way in hell I’m sleeping in skinny jeans.”

Grantaire gaped at him.

“Are you okay?”

Grantaire nodded, turning away to rifle through his wardrobe, blinking furiously in confusion. _Enjolras thought he was beautiful and intelligent._ When he turned back, Enjolras was sitting on the bed in his t-shirt and underwear, the gap between them showing a sliver of bare skin. Grantaire swallowed at the sight, before noticing the pale scar that marred his hip. Enjolras looked confused until he followed Grantaire’s gaze.

“I kinda… got stabbed?” Enjolras said, biting his lip. “A few times? We heal quickly, so long as we have access to blood.” Then he was drawing his shirt up, and Grantaire blanched at the number of silver lines traversing his slim abdomen. Noticing Grantaire’s look of horror, Enjolras looked away, and let his shirt fall back down. “It’s okay, I think they’re ugly too.”

“No!” Grantaire gasped, dropping the pair of pants in his hands. “That’s not what I thought, at all! I was just shocked that you’d been stabbed. I mean, that’s pretty serious! But…” He trailed off. “But mostly I’m just glad that you’re still alive.”

Enjolras smiled, small and sad. “Sometimes it can be hard to be glad when you’ve been alive for this long.”

Grantaire was on the bed in a rush at that, wrapping his arms around him.

“Don’t you say that! I was amazed, when I first found out about you, that you had managed to stay hopeful for so long. I mean, look at me, I’ve been alive for less than a quarter of a century and I’ve pretty much given up on all of humanity’s shit. But you. You’re amazing. And even if I don’t believe that humanity can be changed, I think it’s impressive that you’re still trying.”

Enjolras looked up at Grantaire, blinking away tears. “Thank you. I think being around someone like you might be exactly what I need.”

“We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”

“Courf and ‘Ferre have told me a lot about you. Besides, time isn’t really that important to me anymore. And I mean it. You seem cynical and challenging, but you are so… so alive and _human_. I didn’t even realise how tired I was getting. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are amazing, but they are old, too. We’ve all been through the same shit.”

“Well, I’ll be here until I piss you off so much that you go and hide in a castle in Germany, or some shit like that.”

That startled a laugh from Enjolras, who wiped away his tears and leaned against Grantaire’s shoulder.

“I should really get you those pants.” Grantaire said, reaching over the side of the bed, only to find he couldn’t quite stretch far enough to grab them, overbalancing and falling on the floor. Grantaire’s shoulders started shaking, and Enjolras moved to crouch next to him.

“Are you- oh, you’re laughing.” Enjolras said, huffing at Grantaire’s antics. “Sleep time, I think.”

He wriggled into the pants Grantaire had given him, loose on his narrow hips, and hopped onto the bed, sitting on top of the covers and pointedly not watching while Grantaire changed.

 

* * *

 

 

They were both drifting into sleep when Grantaire murmured, “You know, I’m kind of disappointed you don’t hang upside down like a bat when you sleep. Or sleep in a coffin.”

Enjolras rolled over to face Grantaire, and hit his forehead softly. “Shh. Sleeping. Too tired for repartee.”

Grantaire silenced his laughter, and didn’t say anything when Enjolras didn’t roll back over, or move his hand from where it had fallen on his neck. The touch was a little colder than a human’s, but Grantaire was a warm sleeper, and he didn’t mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire woke to find he had rolled over in the night. Enjolras was plastered to his back, snoring into his ear, something poking into the back of his hip.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire groaned. “Stop snoring.”

Enjolras made a sleepy noise, but the snoring stopped. Grantaire felt him stirring slightly behind him, but didn’t move, until Enjolras let out a small shriek.

“My ear. Oh my god. Please never do that again.” Grantaire groaned, sitting up and facing Enjolras, who had buried his face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry.” Enjolras said into his hands. “This is really, really embarrassing.”

“Dude, it’s okay. It happens. This at least satisfies some of my curiosities about the biological side of vampire transformations, although I’d kind of guessed after the whole feeding sexytimes conversation.”

Enjolras let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“Enjolras, seriously. Listen to me, I really don’t mind. It’s not something you can control, and morning wood is an acknowledged phenomenon. Although I suppose it’s more like evening now.”

Enjolras looked up, his face bright red. “You’re sure it doesn’t bother you?”

Grantaire tried not to laugh. “Yeah. Really. I’m going to make myself some food, but feel free to use the shower, or whatever. Actually, I’ll just block all the windows before you go out there.”

Leaving a fairly miserable looking Enjolras sitting on the bed, still flushed bright red, Grantaire grabbed a couple of sheets and pinned them over the windows that were letting in light. By the time he returned, Enjolras was out of bed, blinking sleepily.

“I’m not an afternoon person.” Enjolras said, running a hand through his somewhat ridiculous bedhead. “I wish I could drink coffee, I loved it when I was human.”

“If you drank the blood of someone who had drunk coffee, or even alcohol or something, would that affect you, too?”

“So I’ve heard.” Enjolras said. “I can talk science later – or, better yet, get Combeferre to talk science – but I really need a shower so I can actually wake up. Or I will be a grumpypants until evening, according to Courf.”

Grantaire showed him the bathroom, before making himself a big mug of coffee, and trying to ignore the thought of Enjolras getting a caffeine high off his blood. Or any remotely erotic thought of Enjolras, really.

It was hard to ignore such thoughts when Enjolras emerged from the shower, hair damp, and a towel slung around his waist.

He was polite enough to pretend not to notice Grantaire almost choking on his coffee, shuffling into the bedroom while muttering about forgetting his clothes.

Once Enjolras emerged, dressed and finally looking awake, the sun was setting.

“I should go.” Enjolras said, “But thanks. For everything.” He smiled shyly at Grantaire, who returned the smile.

“It really wasn’t a problem. Before you go, though, I was wondering if I could have your number? I’d like to stay in touch, if you don’t mind.”

Enjolras unlocked his phone and handed it over. “I’ll send you a text so you get my number. Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to go out sometime? People always seem to ask to get coffee, but since I only consume one kind of fluid, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Are you asking me out? On a date?”

“Yes, you silly noodle, to use your phrase.” Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “You could come over to my place and we could watch a movie, or something.”

“I’d like that.” Grantaire said.

“Tomorrow? I know it’s soon, but I want to see you again. I like being around you.”

“You’re too cute. But yes, tomorrow is fine.”

Enjolras tried not to beam, and largely failed. “Seven? PM, obviously. I’ll text you my address.”

“I’ll see you at seven, then.”

“Yeah.” Enjolras said, leaning over and nervously brushing a kiss against Grantaire’s cheek. He was just about to pull away when Grantaire moved forward and brought their lips together.

“See you tomorrow.” Enjolras said, turning away and walking to the door, almost hitting his head on the wall in his flustered distraction. Grantaire tried not to laugh. Enjolras sent him a wounded look before exiting with as much pride as he could muster.

A few minutes later, Grantaire’s phone buzzed. Enjolras had sent him a text which consisted of a single vampire emoji. A moment later, a second text came through.

_This is Enjolras, in case you were expecting any other vampires to text you. :-P xx_

Grantaire couldn’t contain his wide grin. He was going on a date with this ridiculously smart, sexy vampire who also happened to be a giant hecking nerd. He was totally screwed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire spent the rest of the night putting the finishing touches on his painting of Enjolras. It was the first thing in a long time that he was truly proud to have produced, and that small flame kept alive the warmth that he usually took to a bottle in search of.

Realising that it had been a while since he’d taken any notice of his body and its needs, Grantaire put the kettle on. He was shovelling cup noodles into his mouth when his phone went off.

_Enjolras : _I just realised that our date (!!) is around dinner time tomorrow, so I’ll make sure to order you some takeaway. Just letting you know so you don’t have to worry about whether or not to eat before you come over :) xx

_Grantaire: _ you don’t have to, but I do appreciate you thinking about me. thanks xxx

_Enjolras: _ I figured it was a better option than cooking for you. I haven’t cooked in a century and a half. It did not go well last time. I almost set Courfeyrac on fire, and we got sort of kicked out of England for a while.

_Grantaire: _ I need to shower because I was kind of in art mode all night and now I feel like what stale bread tastes like but you will need tell me that story when I see you because wtf

_Grantaire: _ how do you mess up cooking that badly

 

* * *

_  
_

Post-shower, Grantaire was tucked into bed, sleepily texting Enjolras. The clock on his nightstand read 05:00, and he felt himself unable to care that his sleep schedule had been shifted to be nearly opposite to that of most people, not when he could spend his nights with Enjolras, and have the man tell him to sleep well, complete with emojis, which he seemed to love. Grantaire tried not to find that completely adorable and endearing, and didn’t mind when he found himself unable to. He couldn’t say that he expected to be smitten with a dorky vampire revolutionary, but here he was, exchanging cute texts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for leaving comments or kudos!! This is my first time writing an even vaguely smutty scene, so please go easy on me and I hope you enjoy :)

Grantaire was not known for his promptness, but he ensured that he was outside Enjolras’ apartment at two minutes to seven, dressed in the only pair of jeans he could find that weren’t completely covered in paint splatters. He should really buy a pair of nice jeans, and make sure to not wear them while painting. But he was getting distracted.

Enjolras.

Date.

_Oh God, he actually had a date with Enjolras._

Grantaire raised a fist to knock on the door, only for the door to swing open. He just managed not to punch Enjolras, who was standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

“Do I want to know why you’ve been standing there for several minutes?”

“It’s been two. I feel like several implies at least three.” Grantaire said back, raising his chin. “But- ah- I just got a bit distracted.”

Enjolras leant over and pecked him on the lips. “You’re too cute. Come on in.”

Grantaire followed Enjolras through to the living room, where the coffee table was covered in takeaway menus.

“I didn’t know what you’d want the most, and I don’t know what places around here are any good.” Enjolras said, almost shyly, which just made Grantaire’s heart clench in the best kind of way.

Grantaire kissed him. “Thank you. Even if you did go a little overboard, I appreciate it.”

“I thought we could have a tacky vampire movie marathon.” Enjolras said, throwing himself on the couch and patting the spot next to him.

“I’m so down for that. Please point out all the inaccuracies you can.” Grantaire said, settling next to Enjolras, who wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “I’m thinking Thai food.”

Enjolras leant over and gathered the five Thai restaurant menus, handing them to Grantaire. “I’ve never eaten Thai food. I must admit, I do miss food sometimes.”

“What happens if you consume something that isn’t blood?” Grantaire asked curiously.

“Vomiting, diarrhoea. Within minutes. No food tastes good enough to be worth it.” Enjolras said ruefully.

“Well, that sounds delightful, and has definitely improved my appetite.”

Enjolras laughed. “You’re the one who asked.”

“Point.”

 

* * *

 

 

Forty minutes later – including a  fifteen minute search for a fork, which had been unearthed from the depths of a dusty cupboard and vigorously scrubbed – Grantaire was digging into a container of pad thai and _Breaking Dawn Part 2_ was playing on the TV.

“What the fuck. Creepy CGI baby thing is terrifying.”

Enjolras nodded next to him. “Not only does Stephanie Meyer get vampire physiology horrifyingly wrong, it doesn’t even make sense. Like, they have no heartbeat, or blood flow, or whatever, so how the hell would Edward have had an erection, let alone produced sperm?” 

“I’m guessing you can’t actually have kids? Because that would be really weird.”

“Yeah, nah. As you know,” Enjolras went bright red, “We can get erections, but whatever the hell happens that changes our bodies when we’re turned renders us infertile.”

“How does turning actually work? Like, I’m guessing it’s not just being bitten that causes it.”

Enjolras absently rubbed the scars on his neck. “There has to be an exchange of blood. The one being turned will have their sire drink some of their blood, and then in return consume their sire’s blood. I never actually found out who my sire was, I was that close to death when I was turned.”

“That sounds like a hygienic process.”

Enjolras hit Grantaire’s arm lightly. “Well, considering vampires don’t catch human viruses, then it doesn’t really matter.”

“And it just-?” Grantaire asked.

“Well, it takes a while. There’s no consistent amount of time; it depends on the individual. That’s one thing Stephanie Meyer got right. And the fact that it hurts. Your entire body… it’s not so much a change, but a shift? I don’t know how to describe it. You still look the same, and everything.”

“Well you’re just lucky you happened to look perfect on the day you were turned.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s temple. “You’re silly.”

“This movie is silly.”

“I concur and have no desire to finish it, unless you want to.”

“Ah… nope.”

 

* * *

 

 

They made it through two more movies before Enjolras started shifting slightly on the couch next to Grantaire – minute, irritated twitches.

“Are you okay?”

Enjolras nodded. “I’m just hungry. It’s dumb.”

“Why is it dumb? I know you’re a vampire, if you have some donor blood you want to – eat? Drink? Whatever, it’s fine with me.”

Enjolras threw his head back and made a small whining noise. “I just ate yesterday. I shouldn’t need to feed again so soon.”

“Then why-?”

“It’s _you_ , Grantaire.” Enjolras turned to face him, and Grantaire’s pulse leapt at the sight of his pupils, blown wide and dark. “I haven’t had fresh blood in ages, and your scent, my god. It’s only my body’s reaction, don’t worry, I’m not going to attack you.”

Grantaire tried to ignore the flush that had risen up his neck and was currently settling in his cheeks. “I-" he cleared his throat. “I… wouldn’t mind if you did?”

Enjolras’ head snapped up. “I couldn’t.”

“Dude, I’m the one offering.” Grantaire stretched his neck out, exaggerating the line of his throat as he bared it towards Enjolras with a smirk.

Enjolras leant in, pausing a hair’s breadth from Grantaire’s throat, before quickly pecking a kiss to the offered skin and drawing back. Grantaire groaned and grabbed at Enjolras as he pulled away. Enjolras let out something akin to a giggle as he twined their fingers together and led them toward the bedroom.

“Are-" Enjolras gasped as Grantaire began unbuttoning his shirt. “Are you sure?”

Grantaire pulled his own t-shirt off, sliding his fingers into Enjolras’ belt loops and pulling their hips together, both of them letting out groans at the contact. _“Yes.”_

Enjolras gently pushed Grantaire onto the bed and clambered on top of him. “God, Grantaire, you smell so good.” He undid Grantaire’s jeans, shoving them off him quickly. “Want you so bad.” He bent to press an open-mouthed kiss to Grantaire’s dick through his underwear. Grantaire groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Jesus Christ, get naked and get that gorgeous bod up here.”

“I will if you never say ‘bod’ again.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m entirely willing to make.”

Enjolras quickly stripped, wrinkling his nose as Grantaire pulled his own underwear off and slingshotted them at him. “How old are you, twelve?”

“We would not be doing this if I were.”

Enjolras snorted, which was even more attractive when he was naked, joining Grantaire on the bed and nuzzling against his neck. Grantaire gasped at the barest hint of teeth scraping against his skin, before Enjolras rolled back on top of him, pressing their hips together. Grantaire’s soft moan at the feeling of their cocks sliding against each other grew in volume as Enjolras bit into his neck as gently as possible, fangs sinking into his skin.

Enjolras moaned at the sensation of blood – fresh blood, for the first time in _decades_ – flooding his mouth. His hips ground down as he sucked gently at the wound, the sounds Grantaire making beneath him driving him wild, combined with the feeling of Grantaire’s hardness against his, and the amazing taste and feeling of drinking his blood. He had fed from a few people over his lifetime, but it had never been as intense as this.

“Enjolras-" Grantaire panted, one hand knotting in Enjolras’ hair, the other grasping at his hip in some attempt at control. “Enjolras, I’m going to-"

Grantaire broke off with a loud cry as his orgasm washed over him, Enjolras following moments later, both of them coming over their abdomens. Sighing in contentment, Enjolras licked at the wound on Grantaire’s neck, healing it with his saliva, before collapsing bonelessly on top of him.

“Holy shit,” Grantaire said breathlessly, “That was amazing. I’d say it was embarrassing how quickly I came, but you seemed to have the same problem.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement. “Next time, I want you to fuck me.”

“Mm, what a hardship.” Grantaire said, shoving Enjolras off him and tangling their legs together. “You’re like a slave driver, babe.”

Grantaire only laughed at the glare Enjolras levelled him with, and kissed his nose. “It’s really not going to be a problem. Like _really_ , wow. The opposite of a problem. It’ll be-"

Enjolras placed a finger over Grantaire’s lips. “You’re rambling, and as cute as it is, I get what you mean. Now please spoon the heck out of me so we can sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire had to leave while it was still light in order to get to class on time, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’ sleep-mussed hair. Enjolras managed to grumble out some form of a goodbye, pulling the covers over his head and falling back asleep while Grantaire crept out of the apartment.

Joly was waiting for him outside the classroom when Grantaire appeared. Grantaire had met Joly in this class, who had taken it claiming to have developed an appreciation for the detailing the human form while studying medicine, and they had become fast friends. He cast a critical eye over Grantaire, then broke out into a grin.

“Tell me everything.”

Grantaire groaned. “How did you know?”

“You’re looking much happier and more confident. Also, you seem to have a _serious_ hickey going on there. Wait, is that-?” Joly stepped closer. “Why were you having sex with a vampire?”

“I- _what?_ ”

Joly grinned and tugged at his collar, showing two barely-healed bite marks at the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I know what it looks like, don’t try to lie to me.”

“You mean Bossuet? And Musichetta? What the actual fuck, Joly?”

“Yeah, yeah, we can talk about that later. For now – isn’t it amazing?” Joly’s smile threatened to split his face in half.

“I think I need to sit down.”

“Good idea, I don’t think we’re going to class today. Let’s get some coffee and sit, my leg’s bothering me today.”

They made their way to the nearest café on campus, Joly leaning more heavily on his cane than usual but not letting the pain he was obviously feeling show on his face.

“So how the hell did you end up dating two vampires?” Grantaire asked incredulously, wrapping his hands around his mug of coffee.

Joly shrugged. “That, my friend, is a long and convoluted story that involves several other people and will be told at another time. It’s not that important, all you need to know is that they’re vampires.”

“I’ve never thought about it, but I’ve only ever seen them at night.”

“It’s nice not to have to hide it anymore.” Joly said, fiddling with the handle of his cane. “I never really liked keeping it from you, but I hope you can see why.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway,” Joly said, leaning forward. “There aren’t _that_ many vampires in Paris, who is it? I might know them.”

“His name is Enjolras.” Grantaire said, failing to stop the goofy smile that spread across his face whenever he thought about him.

Enjolras?” Joly’s voice climbed in pitch. “You slept with _Enjolras?_ ”

“I’m dating him, actually.”

Joly looked like he might faint. “Jesus Christ, R. Well done. I repeat my earlier statement: _tell me everything.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Bossuet sent Grantaire a ‘Congrats on the Sex’ bouquet of flowers a couple of days later, Grantaire disposing of the attached card as quickly as possible while Enjolras studied the painting of his likeness.

“Is it narcissistic to say that I think this is lovely?”

Grantaire laughed. “It depends on what you like about it.”

“Good answer.” Enjolras said, tucking his chin over Grantaire’s shoulder. “Who are the flowers from?”

“My friend Bossuet, who I have recently learned is also a vampire. The world is a wacky place.”

“Oh, you know Bossuet! I’m glad we have some mutual friends, we go way back. As in, first rebellion.” Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire tightly, as if he needed assurance that Grantaire was actually there, which was strange. Grantaire hadn’t been around in 1832, after all.

“Is he part of your social justice group?”

“No need to sound so scathing.” Enjolras admonished. “But yes, he is. I’ll have to take you sometime, introduce you to the immortal gang.”

“Are literally all of you vampires?”

Enjolras looked uncomfortable. “Well, there’s… I don’t feel like now’s the right time to talk about it. Most of us as vampires, but not all.”

Grantaire had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “I’ll have to meet them all some other time. For now, you’re looking a bit pale.”

“You spoil me, I never used to feed this often.” Enjolras said, but didn’t reject the wrist Grantaire raised to his lips. “I don’t want to drink too much of your blood.”

“I asked Combeferre how often I can lose blood, and how much, so don’t fuss. I’ll be careful.”

“Good, you’re quite precious to me. I don’t want to make you unwell.” Then Enjolras’ fangs were sliding out, and he bit down into the offered flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

 

They established a routine over the next weeks, spending a lot of their time at each other’s apartments when they weren’t working or studying. One afternoon found them sitting on the couch in Enjolras’ apartment, Enjolras’ legs thrown over Grantaire’s lap while he flicked through a textbook, pen tucked into his bun and ridiculously cute hipster-style glasses perched on his nose. Grantaire was absentmindedly sketching him, imagining what he might have looked like in the first rebellion, blonde hair flying as he lifted a gun atop a barricade.

Enjolras didn’t like to speak about the barricade much, but a couple of days ago he’d bolted up in the middle of the day while they were sleeping, and his eyes were wild until he noticed Grantaire and realised where he was, curling up against Grantaire’s side while Grantaire stroked his hair.

“You’re alive.” Enjolras had whispered, clinging to him.

“Yes, I’m alive. I wasn’t there, Enjolras, I’m fine.”

Enjolras just shook his head and pulled him closer. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive. It’s okay, you’re alive. I’m so sorry.”

“Enjolras, it’s okay.” Grantaire said, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’ forehead. “I’m here.”

“You’re here again.” Enjolras agreed, half-asleep, and slowly drifted off in Grantaire’s arms.

 

There was something familiar tugging at the edges of his consciousness as he sketched out a waistcoat, a sloppily tied cravat, and Enjolras’ eyes widened as he shifted to look at what Grantaire was drawing.

“This is-?”

“It’s just how I imagined you. I had a dream about it, I think, and since then I couldn’t get the image out of my head.”

Something flashed across Enjolras’ face, too quick to decipher, and then he was tackling Grantaire in a hug. “You’re amazing.”

Grantaire laughed and shook his head. “I’m really not.”

“Well, I think you are. So there.” Enjolras stuck out his tongue.

“Who would have guessed you’re, like, two centuries old. You’re acting like a five year old.”

Enjolras only shrugged. “I’m a young soul.”

“Oh my god, you’re so lame.”

“I’m- how dare you!” Enjolras gasped, flinging himself across Grantaire’s lap. “I thought you were supposed to defend my honour.”

Grantaire laughed and pulled him up for a kiss, drawing forgotten. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire was painting in the studio at university when Enjolras came to visit, greeting him with a kiss and coffee from the best café on campus. Thankfully, it was getting deeper into winter, and the sun was setting earlier, so Enjolras could venture out in the late afternoon, instead of having to wait until it was properly night time.

“You’re actually amazing.” Grantaire said, wrapping his hands around the paper cup and inhaling the steam. “My sleep schedule is so fucked right now, I really needed coffee.”

 “I’m sorry.” Enjolras said, moving to stand behind Grantaire and digging his thumbs into the tense muscles of his shoulders, working out the knots. “You don’t have to stay up for me, though.”

Grantaire leaned back into his touch. “It’s okay. I’ve always been a night owl anyway, and my classes are all in the afternoon, so it’s not too bad.”

“Is anyone else even here?” Enjolras asked, glancing around the deserted room.

“Yeah, there’s someone in the dark room, but I think that’s it. It’s Friday after all, we’re the only ones crazy enough to stay late after classes. I’ll introduce you when he’s out, I think you’ll like him.”

“That would be nice.” Enjolras said, settling on the stool next to Grantaire to watch him paint.

 

* * *

 

 

The guy emerged from the dark room not much later, looking exhausted as he dragged a hand through his tousled hair.

“Feuilly?”

Grantaire glanced over to Enjolras. “You know him?”

Feuilly was looking between them. Since when do you two know each other?”

“He’s my boyfriend. How do you two know each other?” Grantaire said, looking completely confused.

“We’ve known each other a long time.” Enjolras said to Grantaire. “Like, a _long time.”_

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Grantaire said, throwing down his paintbrush. “Is everyone I know actually a vampire?”

“Uh, I’m not exactly a vampire.” Feuilly said. “Bahorel is, though. Which is how I met Enjolras.”

Grantaire just looked at Enjolras as if to say _please explain?_

“We have the ability to share our immortality with one other being. Combeferre shared his with Courfeyrac, Bahorel shared his with Feuilly. I’m not entirely sure how the JBM trio has gone about it.”

“And you didn’t think this was important to mention?” Grantaire said, definitely not panicking because this was totally not a big deal.

Feuilly edged out of the room uncomfortably.

“I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. I like you, and I want to keep dating you, and I didn’t want you to think that I was implying that I was planning on sharing that with you. Not,” he said, glancing at Grantaire’s expression, “That I don’t think you’re worthy or it or whatever, it’s just that we’ve only been together a month or two. I didn’t want that kind of commitment hovering over us.”

Grantaire nodded. “I think I would have been pretty freaked out if you’d just mentioned it out of the blue. But for future reference, please just explain it, instead of keeping something from me.”

Enjolras nodded and pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not mad. Now let’s go home, I’m sick of the sight of this bloody painting.”

“I like it.” Enjolras said, peering at the hazy cityscape.

Grantaire laughed. “You’re my boyfriend, you have to like it.”

“Well, I’d like it anyway.” Enjolras said stubbornly. “You’re very talented.”

“Just don’t read my philosophy essays, I’m the bane of my tutor’s existence.”

Enjolras eyed him. “Good.”

“Oh my god, you like me being all contrary and questioning all the old, dead philosophers, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Enjolras’ cheekbones had the lightest flush over them.

“Dear lord, you _nerd_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras took Grantaire to a Les Amis meeting after that, and Grantaire was surprised to find he knew almost every single person in the room. Joly called him over as soon as he entered the back room, and Grantaire gratefully took a spot between him and Feuilly, while Enjolras moved to the front of the room.

Enjolras was in his element here, and he was absolutely beautiful. Grantaire could see why he kept joining rebellions and revolutions and riots over and over, because this was truly where he came alive.

Grantaire didn’t know where he fitted in. He knew these people, this was his family, and he’d never felt so comfortable with a group of people before. But at the same time, he just didn’t believe in humanity the same way the rest of them did. He wouldn’t be able to keep fighting and fighting over the years, eternally hopeful, and he found himself reaching for more and more bottles over the course of the night, until he didn’t feel like himself any more. Enjolras looked furious at first, his expression dropping deeper into sadness with every drink Grantaire took, and brought Grantaire home in silence once the meeting ended, helping him out of his clothes and into bed, curling around him possessively.

 

Grantaire had horrible dreams that night, of gunfire and blood, of everyone dying, and when he woke it was a surprise to be in his bed, Enjolras wrapped around him. He must have been thinking about the rebellion that resulted in Enjolras being turned, and, he suspected, a large number of the rest of Les Amis. It felt so real, though, but he supposed that dreams always did, and just pulled Enjolras closer – they had been holding hands in his dream, before the gunfire – and fell back into the same twisting, confusing dreams as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter was a little short, this was just the best logical break I could find.  
> These first couple of updates have been pretty quick, but I'm not entirely sure when I'll have the next chapter up. I've got a fair bit of it written but I'm not very happy with it and I might end up rewriting it all which will probably take a little while. I have a couple of one shots and other stuff that I've been writing which I might edit and finish up, so if I post other things, this isn't being neglected, I promise :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief mention of suicide (nothing explicit at all) and descriptions of a character living with depression. There's nothing too strong or horrible, but I just wanted to warn in case it would upset anyone.

Today was going to be a bad day, Grantaire could tell as soon as he opened his eyes. He hadn’t had one for so long, and he could tell Enjolras was scared when he couldn’t do anything to make Grantaire get out of bed. He hadn’t seen Grantaire like this before, and Grantaire spent time listlessly until Joly arrived, trapped in his own head.

Joly managed to coax him out of bed and promised to get him an appointment with his psychiatrist as soon as possible, assuring Enjolras that he’d be around to make sure Grantaire made it there. He’d done this before, and he knew that it was better to get help before it got worse, that Grantaire knew that too, but it was just too much to get there himself.

“It’s never going away, is it?” Grantaire asked before Joly left.

Joly sighed. “Probably not. But we can get it under control, we’ve done it before. Just please don’t give up. Call me anytime if it gets too bad, I’ll always be there.”

Grantaire remembered the hospital a year ago, waking up when he wasn’t meant to wake up, Joly and Bossuet waiting in the chairs next to his bed, hands clasped together tightly. “I promise I will, don’t worry.”

Then Joly was gone, but Enjolras was still there, not pushing Grantaire to talk, just  _there_ , a solid and comforting presence.

 

* * *

 

They changed his medication, which knocked him around for nearly a week, but he found his feet more quickly than in the past, and he was doing alright. Grantaire would say that he was back to normal, except his concept of normal was an average person’s idea of terrible, so he was probably better than normal. Even so, sometimes he couldn’t sleep at all. He stayed up night and day trying to paint, but his head and his hands just didn’t connect properly, and he couldn’t get his ideas out onto canvas. It wasn’t perfect, but he was surviving, and he had his friends. It was enough.

Enjolras was a quiet but supportive presence, driving Grantaire to and from appointments when he could, getting prescriptions filled out, making sure Grantaire at least ate and bathed and changed his clothes every day.

Things slowly fell back into a routine, of alarms for medication and Enjolras dragging himself out of bed earlier than he liked in order to see Grantaire off for uni or work. They found their balance, Grantaire nudging Enjolras away from the computer when he’d spent too many hours there, Enjolras providing a willing distraction when Grantaire’s hands began to cramp from holding brushes for hours without realising. Grantaire started attending Les Amis meetings regularly, a steady presence in the corner where he shouted rebuttals to Enjolras, whether gleefully or in despair of his lofty ideals. Enjolras’ unconditional happiness at Grantaire’s presence waned within weeks, and his replies grew snippy at times, although his apologies were always heartfelt if he went too far. The two of them were far from perfect with each other, arguments occasionally verging on personal, and Courfeyrac had stepped in too many times to point out when Enjolras had gone over the line without realising.

Not everything in Grantaire’s life was perfect, but he was fairly happy with it overall.

Until.

 

_“Do you permit it?”_

_Enjolras accepted Grantaire’s hand, and smiled at him as they faced the National Guard, fearless. Grantaire’s heart beat wildly in his chest until the bullets tore through him, and it stopped._

 

Grantaire jolted awake, Enjolras stirring beside him. He was- he was in Paris, but not in 1832. But he had been there then. He had been on the barricade, and he had-

“Grantaire?” Enjolras sat up and tentatively placed a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”

“I remember.” Grantaire breathed.  _He had died._ “I was there on the barricade, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a dream. That was real.”

“It was real. You were there.” Tears started streaming down Enjolras’ face. “You were there, and you  _died_. You weren’t meant to die. I was, but you weren’t. I shouldn’t have been saved, they should have saved you.”

Grantaire shook his head. “Enjolras,  _no_. That was entirely out of your control. I’m sure they saved whoever they could.”

“I was hit by  _eight bullets_ , Grantaire. I wasn’t meant to survive that.”

Grantaire traced the faint outlines of the scars scattering Enjolras’ chest. “None of them hit your heart, though. Maybe you were.”

“We were meant to all die, or none of us. Not half of us.”

“Maybe that’s why we came back. I just wish I’d…” Grantaire broke off, and brushed away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Enjolras pulled him closer. “What is it, R?”

“I shouldn’t have come back. I was happy with how I died. I worshipped you and you hated me, justly so, but I died holding your hand in honour of the republic, and you were proud of me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Enjolras said, pulling him in fiercely for a hug. “I didn’t hate you, I never did. I was  _frustrated_ , and I’ve felt horrible for how I acted ever since. I just saw your depression and alcoholism as character flaws, which I know is how they might have been seen then, but I can’t forgive myself for treating you so horribly. And yet you still wanted to die with me.”

“Of course I did. That was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Grantaire. Dying was not the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re here now, and you’re alive. Do you know how happy I was when Combeferre told me he’d seen you in the library, and gave me an excuse to talk to you?”

“But-“ Grantaire’s voice broke. “Why me?”

“I’m… I- I’ve known for so long, but I can’t say it. Why can’t I say it?” Enjolras dug his nails into his palms, looking furious with himself.

“Say what?”

Tears were still streaming down Enjolras’ cheeks. “You know what. I just…” He took a deep, steadying breath, and tried again. “I’m glad you’re here now. Living without you, when everyone else was finding each other – and they’re still my friends, I was happy to see them – was horrible. All I wanted to do was apologise. And then we found you and you didn’t remember, but I couldn’t help falling into… whatever this is, because I already felt that way about you, and you’re so important to me. I  _hated_  not having you around, but you’re here now.”

“Living without me was that horrible?” Grantaire’s eyes were bright and wild, staring right into Enjolras’.

“Don’t, Grantaire, not if you don’t want to.”

“Just answer the question.”

“It depends on you, though. Would you want me to share my immortality with you?” Enjolras asked hesitantly.

Grantaire sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t want to die while you go on living, but at the same time… I don’t really want to be immortal.”

“I understand, I don’t want to push something onto you that you don’t want.”

“It’s not…” Grantaire worried his lip between his teeth. “I think I might want it. After all, I love you.”

Enjolras head snapped up, but Grantaire laid a finger over his lips before he could speak.

“Please don’t say it back. Keep it safe for me, until I can hear it. Because I’m going to need some time to myself.”

Enjolras nodded, taking Grantaire’s hand away from his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm.

“I love you, but I don’t love myself. An average lifespan sometimes seems too much for me, and I’ve realised that isn’t a part of being human. Being with you has made me so happy, but you can’t fix me. That needs to come from myself. And I do want your support.” Grantaire warned, as Enjolras opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not going to do this alone, but I just need to get away for a bit. I want to be able to clear my head and sort my thoughts out before I can face even the idea of forever.”

Enjolras let out a small noise, and Grantaire couldn’t even come close to deciphering what emotion that was representing before Enjolras’ lips were on his. They kissed, softly at first, until Grantaire was out of breath and had to pull away.

“Can you stay?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Grantaire woke, the sky was an inky shade that suggested it had been dark for quite some time. Enjolras was sitting up in bed next to him, reading in the light from the streetlamp filtering through the window. He had obviously pulled back the curtains sometime after the sun had set, although neither the movement nor the light had woken Grantaire.

“Good morning.”

Enjolras looked up. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t even know. But I think I’ll be okay.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Enjolras leant over and kissed Grantaire, carding fingers through dark curls. “I should leave soon, while it’s still dark.”

Grantaire could only nod.

“You’ll let me know when you’re ready to come back, yeah?”

“Of course.” Grantaire said, his voice cracking. “And I’ll still text you and stuff, let you know how I’m going. I just can’t have  _this_  right now. We kind of rushed into it, and I didn’t even think about how I was going to deal with it long term. I never even thought about  _existing_  long term.”

“I understand. Please do text me, even if it seems painfully mundane. I won’t mind.”

Grantaire nodded, and scrambled into Enjolras’ lap for one last kiss. Pulling away was almost painful, and he couldn’t bear to follow Enjolras even out of the bedroom, let alone to the front door.

Grantaire pulled the covers over his head and curled up into a ball. This was something that he wanted to do, but it still hurt. He needed to know that he could live within his own head, that he was making the choice to live for himself, not Enjolras. Even so, he wanted Enjolras to be curled around him as sobs wracked his body.

By the time he had stopped crying, he felt like maybe he could do this.

* * *

 

 

_Grantaire :_ I miss you already

_Grantaire :_ I’m sorry

_Enjolras :_ There’s nothing to forgive. I miss you too.

_Enjolras :_ Just concentrate on yourself, though. I’ll be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while between updates!! I'm not 100% happy with this chapter but I figured I should just post it like this or I'd never get around to it.  
> The next chapter should hopefully be up within a week or so and there should be maybe three more chapters, possibly including an epilogue?? I'm not entirely sure, it should be somewhere in the 10-15000 word count in the end, but there's still a bit to write and lots of editing to be done so I can't say it will be exactly that long with complete confidence.  
> I've also finished a short luxe-inspired AU that should be up in a few days so watch this space :))


End file.
